


A Reason To Stay

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Night Before Stanford, Pre-Series Wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean asks Sam not to go to Stanford; Sam asks Dean for a reason to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reason To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted [here](http://tfwsecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/73429684732/fic-a-reason-to-stay) as a gift for [eenochian (originally deanizm)](http://eenochian.tumblr.com/) in the TFW Secret Santa exchange.

Sam finds Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala drinking a beer.  They’re staying in a little motel on the edge of town where the parking lot gives way to a weedy field, and the light is just scant enough that the stars are readily visible.  He approaches slowly, dragging his feet as he pulls his jacket tighter around himself.  Dean glances at him but looks away quickly, with a dismissive grunt.  Sam slows further, barely moving as he sends rocks skittering ahead of his beat up sneakers while Dean drains the bottle in his hand and throws it into the weeds in front of him.

“How many have you had?”  Sam asks quietly when Dean reaches for another bottle from the cooler beside him.

“Why does it matter?”  Dean’s reply is so harsh Sam cringes.   He stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets and stops just out of Dean’s reach, watching his brother open his next beer.  He shrugs his slim shoulders and squints off into the field.

“I care,” Sam answers after a moment, only to be met by a derisive snort from his big brother.  

“People who care don’t leave,” Dean says, finally turning to glare at Sam, his voice rising with each word that follows.  “You expect me to put you on a bus to California in the morning? Fine.  You expect me to be  _happy_  that my kid brother is ditching me for a ‘better life’ somewhere that I can’t protect him?  Sorry, no can do.  I  _care_.”

“Do you?”  Sam says, forcing himself to straighten his shoulders and move closer.  He closes the distance and leans down until he’s right in Dean’s face, staring into Dean’s eyes.  “Do you care that I’ve always hated hunting?  That I’ve  _never_  been as good at it as you?  That dad loves you more and looks at me as a  _trial_  he has to endure?  Do you care that I could actually get out of this bullshit vengeance fight that isn’t even  _mine and_  that makes me miserable and make a life for myself somewhere where I could be  _happy_  and actually feel like I belong for the first time in my fucking life?”

Dean leans back, the bottle in his hand clanking loudly against the hood of the Impala as he blinks rapidly and wets his lips, obviously struggling for something to say.  Sam follows, ignoring the sour smell of beer on Dean’s quickening breath, still staring at his now-closed eyes and memorizing every telltale twitch of muscle in Dean’s. 

“What do you want from me, Sam?”  Dean asks, his voice breaking pleadingly as he opens his eyes to meet Sam’s gaze again.  Tears well in his eyes and his bottom lip quivers as he reaches up with his free hand to touch his brother’s face.

Sam turns his face to the touch and closes his eyes, tears stinging them as the bridge of his nose burns with the need to cry.  He holds his breath as the pad of Dean’s thumb slides across his lips.  Dean’s touch is gentle; fingers sliding up to push Sam’s messy hair away from his eyes before his calloused thumb slides down the bridge of his nose.  Sam shivers, his throat tight around a lump of terror that seems to be growing by the second.

“I want you to kiss me,” Sam answers finally, his voice a croak as he opens his eyes.  Dean’s breath comes soft and shallow and he wets his lips, eyes widening as he stares at Sam.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, his palm sliding to cup Sam’s jaw tenderly, “that was once and it was a mistake.”

“You asked me what I wanted from you, Dean.”  Sam says simply, dropping his hands to the hood of the Impala for balance as he leans in closer still, holding his brother’s gaze.  “If you’re gonna ask me to give up everything I’ve ever dreamed of, I need a good reason to stay.”

Dean nods slowly and wets his lips again before he closes the inches between their lips.  A gentle press at first, chaste and soft.  Sam presses back eagerly, clumsy in his inexperience, nose squishing awkwardly against Dean’s.  Dean chuckles, more a thick little hum as he gently tilts Sam’s head and teases his tongue against Sam’s bottom lip.  Sam’s breath catches in his throat and he lurches forward into the kiss, hands balling into fists on the hood of the car.

He can’t help the shiver that runs through him as Dean presses the kiss deeper; the sour, malty flavor of beer on his tongue foreign and earthy when mixed with the metallic taste he remembers from the other time they kissed.  An impatient whine forms in Sam’s throat as his tongue slides against Dean’s and he pushes too hard again in his eagerness only to be rewarded with the unpleasant bumping of his teeth against Dean’s.

Dean’s fingers work lightly against the muscles of Sam’s jaw, stroking to steady him as they pass a wet kiss back and forth between them, only pausing to draw the occasional ragged breath with their lips still pressed together.  It’s sweet and soft with an undercurrent of the high emotion that came just before.  Need twists in the pit of Sam’s stomach like an icy fist as he moves one hand to Dean’s hip and grabs at the hem of his t-shirt for reassurance.

When Dean pulls away reluctantly a moment later, Sam slowly opens his eyes to see his brother watching him.  Dean’s voice cracks around the words when he whispers, “I need you, Sammy.  Please don’t leave.”

Sam swallows the lump in his throat and stands up, his heart pounding painfully against his breastbone.  He nods slowly, lips tingling from the now-absent pressure of Dean’s kiss and he straightens his jacket; struggles to catch his breath.  He doesn’t say anything as he reaches into the cooler to grab a beer and crawls up to sit on the hood of the Impala with Dean.  He finally finds his voice after he takes a long pull from his beer and pushes his shoulder against Dean’s, craving the contact.

“Where are the constellations, Dean?” He says softly.  “I want to find them  _all_ tonight.”


End file.
